Chapter 9: Three Days
The first day, nothing.
The second day, a text from an unknown number — Paul Harmon's, it turned out, though he didn't identify himself.
It said only: *What are the exact terms?*
I wrote back with Donna's help.
Full restitution of the original amount plus compound interest from the transfer date.
Payment within thirty days.
A signed statement acknowledging the transfer and its origins, held privately unless the terms were violated.
No further contact.
He didn't reply that day.
On the morning of the third day, I was in the kitchen making coffee when Dad came downstairs.
He had been sleeping in the spare room.
He had been quiet for three days — helpful in the way of a man who understood he was on probation, doing dishes without being asked, staying out of the way when Jamie needed space.
"Anything yet?" he said.
"Not yet."
He poured himself a glass of water and stood at the counter.
"I've been thinking about what I want to say to you.
Both of you.
Not an excuse.
Just — something I should have said a long time ago."
"Dad—"
"Let me say it." He set the glass down.
"I was a coward.
That's the whole of it.
Your mother died and I didn't know how to be alone, and I didn't know how to be a father without her, and Claire made it very easy for me to stop trying.
She made it feel like the sensible thing.
The clean thing." He stopped.
"There is no version of that story where I'm not the one who chose to walk away.
I know that.
I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I just need you to know that I know it."
Jamie was standing in the doorway.
I hadn't heard him come downstairs.
He looked at our father for a long moment.
"I heard you," he said.
Not warmly.
But not coldly either.
Just honestly.
Dad nodded.
That was all.
He picked up his glass and went back upstairs.
Jamie came and stood next to me at the counter.
"Do you believe him?" he said quietly.
"I believe he means it right now," I said.
"I don't know what that's worth yet."
"Me neither." He poured himself coffee.
"But it's something."
My phone rang at eleven-fifteen.
Claire.
"Paul has agreed," she said.
"The full amount plus interest.
He wants the signed statement drafted by your representative, not his.
He doesn't want his lawyer involved."
"That's fine," I said.
"Donna will draft it."
"There's one condition," Claire said.
"He wants the statement to name only him, not me."
"No," I said.
Silence.
"Claire," I said.
"Your name is on the company.
Your name is on the account that received the transfer.
You don't get to hand your brother to us and walk away clean.
Both names, or we file Monday."
A long pause.
"Both names," she said finally.
Her voice had lost its smoothness.
She sounded tired.
"Fine."
"I'll have Donna send the draft today."
I hung up.
Jamie was watching me from across the kitchen.
"It's done?" he said.
May you like
"Almost," I said.
"One more signature."
